


cherry glaze

by MaRuX



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: (at least it seems so since it's from one person's POV), Attraction, Character Study, F/M, One-Sided Attraction, Pining, being a cat is awesome basically, idek what else to tag this with sorry :V, shameless cat references but that's nothing new when it comes to this boy lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-14
Updated: 2016-10-14
Packaged: 2018-08-22 10:39:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8282905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaRuX/pseuds/MaRuX
Summary: Becoming a magical catboy is the best thing that has happened to Adrien in a very long time.[An old attempt at character study, because the author is such a sucker for them]





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [clairelutra (exosolarmoon)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/exosolarmoon/gifts).



> (I somehow always keep getting back to character studies, how even...)  
> This is a very early thing I wrote in my attempt to understand this character, I think it was sometime after the Evillustrator ep? Anyways. 
> 
> And for a long time I either forgot I had this among my drafts, or didn't know how I could even make it into something I'd feel like posting. So major thanks to clairelutra for the constant encouragement and tips on editing, she was invaluable in actually getting this posted anywhere!

He sometimes catches himself staring at her.

He is loyal to his first love, of course. But after having been home-schooled all his life, suddenly finding himself in the middle of a crowd of people around his age had been overwhelming, to say the least. So many people, all with different shapes, sizes, tones of voice and mannerisms and... _scents_.

He has always been weak when it came to his senses, especially his nose. His allergies resided in the spectrum of utter displeasure, but on the other end…

_The aftertaste of langue du chat and the warmth from fresh croissants sprinkled with powdered sugar_

_A hint of raspberry?_

He had not lied to Plagg that one time… Girls smell so much better than cheese.

He has been aware of that since the first week he sat down in class and the air was still in the sunlight, dust glittering in lazy motions. A tight ball of _something_  coiled in his belly as he could feel the stare from someone behind him. He has yet to understand her reason for doing so, let alone why it had felt like such a sweet burden branded on the back of his neck.

He gets goose bumps sometimes without knowing why, besides the now familiar flavor of want crackling on the back of his tongue he had to swallow back so often. He is usually numb to the feeling of being watched, of being under someone’s scrutiny, but this feels like something else entirely. Maybe it’s because he is too aware of his own curiosity about the person who is doing this now.

Adrien likes Marinette, the baker’s daughter, sweet as a ripe cherry and with lips just as inviting. It’s her most striking feature, besides her eyes.

It is such a shame she hardly speaks to him directly; her stuttering makes it too easy to stare at her face, making it look as if he’s just confused and trying to decipher what she’s trying to say. But really, he knows her well enough now from seeing her interactions with others that when she has something she really wants to say, she will. He instead admires the sheen of her lip gloss in the natural light, and wonders if it’s cherry flavored.

His father had been too good at creating his image and Adrien is too good at keeping it up. Having been told all his life to be a good boy he learned to smile like one, as gluttony ate him on the inside to the point where he didn’t feel it anymore, had it fused with his own being.

It was when he became Chat Noir that he let it out for the first time in a long while.

It burned.

It burned away every sense of propriety drilled into him. He now found himself jumping and rolling headfirst, long limbs swinging after him to land on all fours. He crouched like a cat as he sat on the rooftops of Paris, his perfect posture now curved into a slouch. His perfectly styled hair shape long gone, now windswept and fluffed up in ways he never thought his hair could look like before.

The first time he saw his reflection in the dark, his unblinking green gaze glowing in the night, he thought he finally looked like himself. Green and slick shadow, burning with want for everything and anything in sight, expressive and shameless. He grinned big and wide at the sight, and he loved that even more.

Good boys should behave, they should not want. They should listen. They should mind their own business.

That smile was not one a real good boy should know. They should not know, let alone like it, or have it feel like freedom.

Getting into public school had been a sliver of curiosity appeased for a good boy for the first time in a long while, but around the same time he became a cat - looking for satisfaction and so very _curious_.

And that’s nothing a real good boy would want or be.

Because, first and foremost, cats are opportunists at heart: seducing the gullible with their big eyes and languorous movements, the shine of their hair and purr in their throats – because cats have no shame in seeking what they want. Because cats are curious and always want more, they vocalize their wishes until their demands are met.

Adrien always wants so much, and Chat Noir is what gives him strength to keep daring to wish for it.

Everyone says that curiosity killed the cat.

( _Her lips look like cherries, the shine of her lip gloss making his mouth water._ )

But he knows that satisfaction brought it back.

( _He wants to taste._ )

Still, he doesn't intend to go any farther than his own thoughts; acting upon them is a concept he had yet to be comfortable with, but he enjoys mulling over the possibility nonetheless. Being suddenly able to jump across rooftops in the dark and free-falling from the top of the Eiffel tower makes him feel bold enough to think of other things he could do.

Things like dreaming of getting up from his seat and kissing a sweet girl’s stuttering mouth.

Things like chasing a magical little ladybug into the night to fight demons made from people with freshly opened wounds and help her stitch them back together.

Things like dreaming big, big in small ways like looking at the horizon and have something to dream about and _smile_.

But having the freedom to feel for once comes with a price. He wants to kiss a girl, but he never dares. He wants to give his heart to a ladybug, but he doesn't know how.

Chat Noir is a cat and cats _want_. They need to say what they are feeling, but he _can't_ , not when it comes to _this_. He tries, through the tendrils squeezing around his veins, through a sandpaper tongue and ear-splitting grins. He tries to let it be known, with the most insufficient ways of showing it but the easiest ways to cope.

He tries because he is a cat, and cats _want_.

_Meow_

**Author's Note:**

> It feels like I haven't written in so long, do I even know how to word gud anymore :U Let me know your thoughts, please!


End file.
